Of pebbles...

The pebble just sat there, doing nothing, just listening to the rhythmic gurgling of the stream of water that flowed by. At night, it was cool, but the stars shone brightly, and moonlight touched the peaks.

By Ranjeev Shrestha

Once upon a time, in a land not so far away, by a brook that bubbled merrily, lived a pebble. When I say lived, it wasn’t much of a life really. The pebble just sat there, doing nothing, just listening to the rhythmic gurgling of the stream of water that flowed by. At night, it was cool, but the stars shone brightly, and as moonlight touched the peaks of the ever-merry stream, they lit up like silver ribbons waving in a breeze. At dawn, silver turned to gold, a gleam so bright that it was almost hard to look. Warmed to the very centre, the pebble would sizzle with glee. He loved the stream’s noisy exuberance. He loved the lush grassy cliffs that banked the brook. He loved everything about his existence. He was happy. Yet, there were older wiser rocks that palled at all the goodness and warned of frightening things to come-ordeals too terrible to imagine. But, the little pebble, being young, dismissed their prophetic pronouncements.

Then, one day, morning came but the sky did not grow bright. Dark, grey and miserable, it looked furious. As the pebble wondered what could have caused such a beautiful sky to grow angry, heavy drops of water descended. At first, the drops made hardly a sound. Quietly they drenched the parched upper reaches. But it didn’t stop there. It grew fiercer. Soon, one could not tell where the brook ended and where the sky began. Like bricks collapsing in a heap, the drops drowned out the merry giggles of the brook. Then, the brook started to grow. It crept higher and higher. It grew faster and faster, its merry bubbling replaced by a thunderous roar. The pebble looked on dismayed. It wanted to stop the brook. It wanted to stop the rain, but it knew not how. He turned to his fellow older rocks and cried, ‘Come, let us try to stop the brook, before it destroys everything in its path’, but they heeded not. They cowered under the flashes of brilliant lightening, and trembling miserably, they sat there glumly.

But the pebble was made of sterner stuff. He felt he must do something. Such cowardice on the parts of the older and wiser was mere pusillanimity. So, he looked right, left and right again, and then screaming loudly for the brook to stop, he jumped into its raging waves. For a second, he remained as if glued to the spot. Then, with a sudden bounce, he began to roll, faster and faster he tumbled, through waves that rose and fell more than the pebble had ever imagined, and soon he was swept away to God alone knows where. The other moping rocks looked on. ‘Fool!’ they thought. But they did not reach to help. Then suddenly, as one craned to see how the pebble, it fell in and rasping loudly, it pulled at its neighbour, which pulled its neighbour. Soon, rocks by the brrok began tumbling in by the hundreds. At first, the waters raged by them, then through them, then over them. But soon enough, so many a rock had gathered that even the frothing fury of the brook was no match for them. The next morning, the sun arose once more to a pale blue sky to greet the world, ravaged, true, but beautiful still. And where the little pebble had once, stood lay a huge pile of rocks and beyond it a beautiful lake. From bubbling brook to massive lake, that was what the pebble achieved. But, washed on and lost in mists of time, its handiwork, it could not see.

Pacemakers may help to battle brain disorders

By BK Bista

Pacemakers may help to battle brain disorders. A new generation of pacemakers for the brain is being developed to treat disorders such as Parkinson’s disease and epilepsy.

Researchers believe the devices, until now used to regulate heartbeats, could help each other conditions including depression and obesity.

Professor Adrian Williams, of the Parkinson’s Disease Society, said the pacemakers might become an alternative to drug treatments that often have serious side effects.

This development offers the potential for people to control many of the symptoms and significantly improve their quality of life, he said.

The device used for Parkinson’s disease, the crippling condition sulfered by boxing legend Muhammad Ali, costs about $10,000.0. A wire is inserted deep into the patient’s brain and connected to the pacemaker a tiny electronic generator implanted in the chest.

When a patient experiences tremor caused by Parkinson’s, they hold a small magnet over the generator, sending electronic signals to the brain to ease the problem.

Trials have shown that pacemakers can reduce tremors in up to 80 percent of Parkinson’s suffers. Another pacemaker, known as NeuroCybernetic Prosthesis, works by sending electronic impulses to the brain through a nerve in the neck, called the Vagus Nerve.

The nerve leads into the region of the brain thought to control people’s moods and emotions. It also relays signals from the brain that controls vital functions in the heart, throat, lungs and stomach.

King’s College Hospital, SouthEast London, found epileptics suffered fewer seizures and their mood improved when fitted with NCP. Doctors are testing the device to see if it can cure obesity by sending a message to the brain, ‘tricking’ it into thinking the stomach is full.

Heritage tour Bhaktapur Durbar Square

By Razen Manandhar

Whenever one talks about the monument conservation in Nepal, he or she names Bhaktapur Durbar Square as a model — the way of protecting it and cashing benefit of conservation — all has set an example for the country itself.

When Henry Oldfield visited Nepal in 1880, Bhaktapur was "largest and most costly of any in Nipal." And Merry Slusser justly writes in her book —"For the moment, at least, Bhakpapur remains one of the remarkable treasures of the Kathmandu Valley — indeed, of the globe."

The indigenous settlements developed a city in Bhaktapur long before the Lichhivis came into power in the fifth century, the historians hypothesize, though, a few Lichhivi inscriptions and architectural remains have so far been frond from there. Still, we have names of ancients palaces like Tripura and Yuthunium, though we can’t locate where they might have stood in the mediaeval Bhaktapur.

Some historians believe that Bhaktapur is the oldest royal palace of the valley. Still, the oldest found inscription of 594 AD shows that it was a Drung (or big town) called Khopring (the city is still called Khwapa in the local Newar language).

Chronicle Gopalraj Banshavali states that King Ananda Dev established Bhaktapur state in 1146 AD. The predominantly Hindu state was developed in the 12th century and different kings, who came to Bhaktapur’s throne after it became a separate state of the valley in 1482 AD. By the 15th century, the state of Bhaktapur was surrounded by strong walls and moats to secure it from unfriendly neighbours (the wall and city boundary have disappeared). It is "traditionally" divided into two parts — upper and lower — that can be traced in the annual festival of Bisket Jatra even today.

The last three kings Jitamitra Malla, Bhupatindra Malla and Ranajita Malla (1673-1769 AD) were among the kings who contributed the most to decorate the royal square, which we see today.

Not only the palace area, but the whole of the city is full of midaeval temples and residential houses. The stone or brick-paved streets, brick-made houses and temples — all equally decorated with smooth bricks, tiled roofs, carved windows and doors, wooden struts or columns with designs of deities and animals and topped with gilded pinnacles.

Today, the fifty-five window palace is the centre of the protected monument zone. The main palace used to stand elegantly with 99 courtyards but now it has only half a dozen to possess. Mulchowk (supposedly the oldest remaining part of the palace), Bhairav Chowk, Ita Chowk, malati Chowk, Siddhi Chowk, Kumari Chowk are some of them.

After undergoing numerous stages of renovations, it still represents the complicated and miraculous Newari architecture and excellent wood carving, and extraordinary wall paintings. However, it has lost its original spectacle after it was restored following the collapse during the earthquake of 1934. The palace is waiting for renovation and the locals say dirty games among the contractors is the reason behind the delay.

The Yakhseshwor Temple, the Statue of King Bhupatindra Malla, Golden Gate, Taleju Temple, The Golden Spout, The Big Bell, Chyasilin Mandap, Siddhi Laxmi Temple, Vatsala Templeand Chaturbramha Mahavihar are the major monuments at the Bhaktapur Durbar Square.

Along with this we cannot neglect other landmark monuments which lie outside the Durbar Square. These include Nyatapola Temple, Bhairavnath Temple, Dattatraya Temple, Bhimsen Temple, Salan Ganesh Temple, Tekhacho Barahi Temple, Wakupati Narayan Temple, Chhuma Ganesh Temple, Nawadurga Temple, Rudrayani Temple, Mahalaxmi Temple, Hanuman Temple and Kamal Binayak Temple. Apart from that, the Peakock Window and Tucchimala Terracota Window and Talako Potter Square are other spectacles of the historic city.

Lokeshwor Mahavihar, Jyetvarna Mahavihar, Akandasheel Mahavihar, Lumbavarna Mahavihar, Mangal Dharma Mahavihar, Indravarna Mahavihar, Dhimottar Mahavihar, Adipadma Mahavihar, Bishow Mahavihar, Parasannashil Mahavihar, Dipankar Mahavihar, Manjuvarna Mahavihar, Yangalvarna Mahavihar, Chaurvarna Mahavihar, Jetvanr Mahavihar (Tekhacho), Jaya Kirti Mahavihar, Sukravarna Mahavihar, Sukravarna Mahavihar (Kwachukhusi) and Tom Baha are all indispensable parts of the cultural heritage of the city of Bhaktapur.

In the Durwar Square itself, three separate museums, for paintings (in the main palace wing), metal-craft (Chikamapa Math) and woodcraft (in Pujari Math) are allocated.

The efforts of the Bhaktapur Municipality in conservation of the cultural heritage is always appreciable. Kamal Binayak Pond, Bahare Pond, Bharwacho Gate, Jagannath Temple, Shiva Parvati Temple, Chhuma Ganesh Temple, Chaurabahi Monstery and other renovations are some major projects the municipality carried out last year. Of course, the much-criticised entrance fee is the bedrock of the renovations. The only demand the citizens have is that the renovation should not be only toursm promotion-centred, all the city should benefit from the money, not only the streets whey the tourists walk around.

Postmodern relationships

Having been absorbed by a pious-religious infatuation for some time, Thomas rather glided into a group of people near the main gate. For a second, he was stupefied. He recognised his friend John who stood there talking to three persons.

By Manfred Treu

He did his circumambulation of the Bodhanatha Stupa amongst monks, devotees, businessmen, and tourists. Like the sound of humming bees, the murmuring of the repetition of the "Om mani padme hum" mantra resounded in his ears. Prayer wheels fixed into the wall of the Stupa or held by the hands of old and young people rotated before his eyes. Rosary beads were counted uninterruptedly. He experienced an atmosphere of harmony around and inside him, a secluded and secure world he felt being wrapped in. A world that was undisturbed by the quarrels, misunderstandings, egoistic, and often malign feelings and dealings of the competitive daily routines. While doing his rounds here he had been transported to a realm outside his normal frame of social reference, nobody here was known for more than being a fellow human being trading the same path, a melee of individuals dominated by the red robes of monastic Tibetans where everybody seemed accepted, indiscriminate, almost equal. At certain intervals, however, this feeling of oneness was imbalanced by the sight of a stretched out hand of a sick beggar or the stump of a cut off limb of a mutilated man.

Having been absorbed by a pious-religious infatuation for some time, Thomas rather glided into a group of people near the main gate. For a second, he was stupefied. He recognised his friend John who stood there talking to three persons. Among them was a fair-complexioned woman who he would meet a couple of times in John’s house during the coming months. Learning where she had come from at the first meeting, and exchanging impressions on places and people they knew, at the second one, Thomas started to like communicating with her.

During the following meetings, Evelyn, the fair and lovely woman, overcame her natural reservation and paid attention to his more personal questions. As a student of religion. Thomas was eager to know why she had chosen to come to this place, here to this highly inaccessible mountainous region, so far from her home, so different in religion, life-style and living conditions. Judging from his first impression, Evelyn did not seem to actually have a profession to follow, nothing to discover, no real mission to carry out. "Of course, people do all sorts of things, especially when they have the means to do so, in this case, the freedom to travel and settle as they wish," Thomas tried to rationalize his basic bewilderment. But no," she countered, "it was more than that." She had to follow someone who had helped her overcome a deep, life threatening psychophysical crisis. That person had brought her back to her senses when she was almost dead. That is why she had to come all this way to the Himalayas, not because of sheer boredom, but because she was following someone and that someone was a Tibetan Lama. Previously back home, she had been working in an office after completing her university education. She had married early, and in white according to the Catholic tradition, she had been brought up in. Later gave birth to two children.

Thomas was caught by surprise. He thought to himself, "For a mature woman following a Lama from one part of the world to the other was quite an unusual gesture of expressing one’s thanks inspite of having received great help." Evelyn also mentioned that she not only was highly influenced by the personality of the Lama, but also by Buddhism - in fact, she had embraced it. Late that night, when Thomas went home, he thought about her constantly. Looking at what Evelyn had done from a spiritual angle it now appeared to him as if it was an almost classical instance of the beginning of a novice monk’s career: leaving one’s home, or the move from home to homelessness, the actual initiation into the Buddha’s experience. A woman, a mother of teenaged children, leaves everything behind - children, husband, home, and parents - and follows a Lama to the top of the world. Contemplating further the strong impact she had left on him, he realised she had said little about the father of her children, except that he was a successful businessman selling modern household items and that the money he earned, enabled them to lead a comfortable middle class life. She had especially enjoyed the trips he took her on when travelling to different places in the country in order to promote his products. He was still alive.

Now Evelyn was here, away from her home and husband, away from her children, living on her own, as it appeared, no family to take care of her, except for some fellow followers of her Lama. She had developed a strong inclination for everything religious and a strong urge to be helpful to others engaging in different sorts of social work. In a pensive moment, she disclosed to Thomas that it was not easy for her to live without her children and she maintained a close relationship with them in spite of the distance by using e-mail and telephone. One day she remembered that one of the children had said earlier that it felt it would not grow old, but die young. This knowledge, however, did not really seem to disturb her much, because when Thomas expressed his concern, she calmed him saying that he should not worry since it was her who was the mother.

Whenever Thomas met Evelyn, they soon engaged in talks about Buddhism and Christianity, Hinduism and Islam, multiculturalism and multi-ethnicity, internationalism and the Internet, economy and therapy, psyche and reiki. Sometimes there was music in the background like the one by the new age shamans Carlos and John Lee or sublime oriental tunes by Nusrat, Shiva Kumar or classical Chinese instruments. After getting to know better the way she lived her life, Thomas had to dismiss his earlier idealized concept of her leading a monk’s life: having a bank account, being connected by telephone, fax, e-mail with family members, living in hotels and apartments, no, this could hardly be compared and equated with a traditional Buddhist monk’s wandering around and begging for livelihood. Since, however, Evelyn had such a pleasing personality. Thomas wondered as to what might have caused the split from her husband, after all, there was no obvious factor, which could have brought about such a drastic change in the smooth flow of their harmonious nuclear family life. He hesitated asking her, as he did not want to hurt her feelings. But when he did, she explained without much ado that the continuation of her marriage had simply become impossible, because her husbands had totally changed, had become somebody else and somebody else’s. He had flipped, fallen for someone else, the opposite of the other sex, discovered his very own nature, that is to say his homosexuality. Thomas was staggered. What an unexpected picture! He could never have imagined such a change: What an unusual situation! What a fate a married woman can have, what a fate children can have in the present age! How strange relationships can be - the father turns homosexual and the mother runs away with a Lama!

"This must be a rare coincidence, where the cause-effect relations are not fully known", he thought, "but then, was it not also symptomatic of certain traits of the current times, like a tendency to extreme forms of individualism, the unquenchable thirst for maximum personal happiness, female experiments with independence, and the realisation of the self by any means limited only by financial considerations as to whether one can afford it or not. These and other factors seem to have created new forms of existence and identities, as unheard of as the jet set and the virtually internetted world were in the pre-twentieth centuries." Thomas now saw that also the himalayas were not excluded from the process of the global village development. In fact, they had become part of it attracting curious tourists and entrepreneurs as well as heroes of the glamour stage and unknown fighters of the civic battlefields hoping to heal their wounds on the banks of its holy rivers.

Although he felt an unknown kind of estrangement. Thomas was convinced that he could learn more from Evelyn. He was actually longing to see her again. When he had time to visit John’s place again, he went to her room, but only to find it empty. The fair and fairy-like woman had left and with her all her charm. A feeling of a deep void crept into his stomach. John came down and handed him a piece of paper, "Here’s is a message for you." It read: evelyn@om-mani-padme-hum.com.

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